Ship Mania
by SuperLeaf
Summary: Random one-shots that I've written. Crack ships/rarepairs, common ships, poly ships, the works. Currently: FrUk, Bro-AmeCan, GerFra, DenMano, GerKraine, and PruAme.
1. FrUk

**Riighhht, I say I'll do crack ships, then the first chapter is FrUk... I swear I'm not lying xD**

 **(this has no posting schedule whatsoever. whatever I write whenever I write. I imagine/hope this to be more stress-free than a fic that would be finished)**

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He was so tired. And it was all because of those stupid, god-forsaken red strings. They haunted his every day, permeating into his brain and leaving no space for anything else. Everywhere he went, there they were. It did not matter where he was, whether in the heart of Paris or a food market in the forests of Canada.

Francis was, in his opinion, cursed. He did not remember when he could not see the strings. They were normally red, sometimes purple, occasionally black. Those were the only colors he saw.

Francis blinked slowly. His eyes were bleary but he made no attempt to focus them. Even in the midst of a scrappy bar in the outskirts of London, he could see the strings. The bartender's was connected to the DJ's, a faint red. They must not have met yet, or had enough time to acknowledge their love.

He normally was all for love. Francis had the nickname of Cupid, after all, among his friends.

But one could only take so much. It was beyond frustrating seeing swaths of faint red without any change. The pale color buzzed against his head like a fly he couldn't swat.

"Pathetic." He was forced out of his pity-party with a single word, and Francis moved his eyes to the right. Though the man's face was twisted into it's usual sneer, there was a certain softness to it. Why, Francis had no idea. Arthur hated him. Which was truly unfortunate, since Francis normally couldn't help himself from being near the englishman…

"Why switch the roles now of all times?" Arthur slid into the barstool next to Francis and reached out to examine the frenchman's drink. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose, glancing at the once-again quiet blonde to his left. He was, of course, referring to the many times Arthur had drank himself comatose while Francis diligently took him home (after many pictures and other prime teasing material).

"Francis." Arthur prodded. "Francis, I came here because… well… uh, Gilbert and Antonio sent me. Er-"

"Matthew," Francis muttered. "And Lovino."

"Pardon?" Arthur stared at him, baffled. He had known that his friend was drunk, but something was going on that he didn't understand.

Francis had fallen silent and Arthur did not pursue the topic any further. He tapped on Francis's glass. "What is this shit?"

Francis slid his eyes towards Arthur's, confusion starting to swim through his usually clear blue eyes.

Arthur gestured weakly towards the glass. "You're normally rather particular about your drink, especially those of the alcoholic sort. And this swill? Even I find it horrid." Arthur waited for the snide comment about his drinking palate, or perhaps a muttered 'go away'.

When his friend was silent, a streak of worry and nervousness flashed through Arthur. "I may have lied earlier, neither Gilbert nor Antonio sent me, I came on my own terms. I was not expecting to see you here but I am glad I found you, honestly. You look aw- worse for wear." He corrected his verbiage at the last second, not knowing the mental state of Francis at that moment.

He made a noncommittal tone and Arthur noted it. That meant Francis was listening, to a certain point.

"You truly cannot disappear like that, even Eliza was worried-"

"Roderich."

Arthur blinked. What did Roderich have to do with anything?

Then he narrowed his eyes in thought. "Gilbert."

"Matthew."

"Antonio."

"Lovino."

"Ludwig."

"Feliciano."

Arthur stared at the frenchman. Was this all he was going to respond to? Names with different, but seemingly random, names?

Gilbert, Matthew. Antonio, Lovino. Ludwig, Feliciano. Elizaveta, Roderich.

Half, maybe more than half of those names seemed to be in a relationship… Arthur stared at the counter, thinking and habitually fidgeting with his fingers. He had a theory, but he needed to test it.

"Roderich."

"Elizaveta…"

"Feliciano?"

"Ludwig."

"Francis, what is going-"

"I don't know that one."

Arthur blinked and glanced at his companion. Francis was staring at him now, bloodshot eyes brimming with liquid. He spoke again. "I don't… I don't know that one."

"What don't you know, Francis?" Arthur prompted gently. It was probably the first time he had ever been actually, legitimately worried for the frenchman's health. He was an insuffereable twit, and Arthur could not stand his company, but… he was a civil gentleman (at least, that is what he told himself).

Francis's eyelids drooped and he hummed quietly in thought. He looked behind him and saw the dark black string of an angry-faced man and his heart cracked ever so slightly. "I have no… string."

Arthur backpedaled. "String? What does string have to do with anything?"

"Strings!" Francis said angrily, sitting up just a bit. "They connect everyone! Some of the luckiest have more than one, some of the unluckiest have more than one black! And if you get purple, then you are the luckiest of them all, because the universe decided you get another goddamn chance at love!"

Arthur was so taken aback that he had no response, witty or otherwise. Francis deflated into the counter once again, bemoaning to himself. "They change. They start red… turn black sometimes, turn purple after that rarely…" the tears that had been collecting behind his eyelids started dripping down his face. "I can't do anything about it…"

Meanwhile, Arthur was certain that his (maybe) friend had gone off the deep end. He slowly brought his phone out while casually patting Francis on the back, who was muttering to himself. Arthur brought the phone to his ears.

"Hello, this is Arthur- no, I do not- honestly, my call was not for- Gilbert, please, shut the fuck up. Your friend has near drunk himself to death, and now he's raving about… strings?"

He listened carefully and the loud music that had been pounding through the receiver cut off and Gilbert's formerly joking tone was dead serious (for once).

"Arthur, whatever you do, do not- and I'm not kidding here- do not rebuke him. I don't care- hell, I could care less if you think he belongs in the looney bin, but I believe him, and he says that- hear me out you old prick, I'm not done, he says that he can see the strings between lovers."

Arthur just about dropped the phone as his face blanched. The mutterings of Francis suddenly seemed a lot more sinister. There was so much power in knowing one's true love. He glanced at the frenchman again, a few fearful yet curious thoughts running through his head. Were there those without strings? He assumed so, since there was a number of aromantics in the world… and that brought up something else, was it for romantic love, or sexual love, or both? Regardless, Arthur knew that he himself was neither aro nor ace, so that meant that there had to be one string connected to him, correct?

Arthur rubbed at his temples and mumbled something over the phone, interrupting Gilbert, and hanging up. He stared at Francis was renewed curiosity and lightly prodded him in the shoulder. Francis scrunched his nose up and sat up, only to lean back in his chair.

"Fran-" Arthur stopped himself, since it was the frenchman's name that had originally gotten him into the minor funk that had caused Arthur to call Gilbert. "Erm, so you can see the strings of lovers…" he started lamely.

Francis turned his eyes to the brit and nodded, a noise of confirmation coming from his mouth.

Arthur continued. "And those names you were saying before… do they have strings connecting them?"

Francis nodded again.

"Does… Gilbert know, that his, well, his soulmate is Matthew?"

Francis started to nod his head but froze before shaking it left to right. Arthur worried his lip in thought, debating whether or not to ask.

Well, Francis was drunk, and most likely would not remember this. "Who is my string connected to?"

Francis blinked. Then blinked again. He stared down at his hands, which were clenching and unclenching. Francis felt woozy but also confused, as he always did when he thought of Arthur. Arthur had taken his seeing of strings in stride, but of course, he could also be faking it. Francis would not put it past him.

Still… Francis had no idea why he saw no string coming from the brit. He dismissed the thought of him being ace or aro; those people always glowed a dim gold color. If they were one of those, they would glow a dim silver color and had the possibility of a string.

Regardless, Arthur did not glow. Nor did he have a string. Which baffled Francis to no end, and it did not help that he was drunk while trying to make sense of this predicament once more.

"Francis?" Arthur prodded gently.

Francis steeled himself and stared directly at Arthur. "You don't have a string."

"Oh." Arthur stared at the counter. "Does this mean I don't have a soulmate, then?"

"I don't…" Francis clenched his hands together in frustration. "I don't know, I don't know! You confuse me so much! Bon sang," he cursed. "There is nothing… euh, english… conventional about you."

"Well!" Arthur huffed. He was a gentleman, no doubt, but he was not going to sit by and be insulted! And Arthur was certain that the frog had meant it as an insult.

He did not get another word out, however, as Francis continued in a muttered, angry tone. "Which is why it is confusing why I insist on returning to you." He finished his statement with a very mature pout and fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly.

"Erm…" Arthur stared wide-eyed at the frenchman. "I think… I need to get you home."

Francis blinked a few times, a thoughtful expression overtaking his features. "Okay."

Arthur did not question how trusting Francis was being nor how he knew the way to his house, for as he dragged the suddenly-deadweight Francis beside him, his mind was going a mile a minute, and he was reassessing every moment he had ever spent with the confusing but intriguing frenchman.

* * *

 **I kinda like this idea... the world, I mean.**

 **Reviews are loved!**


	2. Bro-AmeCan

**sortof amecan? mostly I wrote this and wanted to post it so a forced ship... more of a bro-lationship than anything**

 **warning: badly written angst**

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"No no no no no NO! FUCK." Alfred slammed the controller to the floor and the pieces come apart for the third time that night. "God damnit Matt!"

Matthew snickered to himself but eyed the broken controller. "Chill, Alfred. I can't keep replacing your proof of failures."

Alfred groaned and glared at him without amusement, flopping over on the couch. "I'm done. I'm dead. Thanks Matt, I know who not to trust during a zombie apocalypse." His eyes trained on the ceiling, refusing to look at the tv screen.

"A zombie apocalypse isn't going to happen, so I think you'll be fine," Matthew laughed, stretching out and army crawling over to the console to turn it off. "In the case of a war, however-"

"-Brothers to the end and all that, yeah yeah." Alfred buried his face into a pillow and sighed. "Hope it never comes to that, though… war is so…" he trailed off but Matthew made a noise of understanding.

They went silent as the tv blinked off and the room was enveloped in darkness. The light from the kitchen was the only thing illuminating the room.

Matthew let out a sigh and melted into the carpeted floor. "I don't want to move."

"Same," Alfred said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Your couch is so comfortable, oh my god."

"I know. I stole it from you, y'know."

"I know."

A sleepy environment permeated the room and the two started dipping into sleep, despite it being only eleven at night- when they had woken up at ten in the morning and did nothing all day, no less. The only sound was the occasional yawn or sigh from either brother. It was altogether very relaxing.

The window was open and let the warm summer air in, the curtains ruffling in the slight breeze. There was a healthy scattering of stars, more than a big city but not as much as the country. There was a damp smell in the air, warning of a pending thunderstorm, but it was far enough off to not be on Matthew's radar (Alfred would leave the window open anyway and get his house soaked from the rain).

Alfred was just about to fall into a continuous sleep rather than simply drifting through consciousness. He felt so relaxed and comfortable.

He let out a noise of surprise and jerked, suddenly completely awake. A burning pain started in his calf and pulsed angrily.

"Shit…" Alfred muttered, clasping a hand over his calf muscle in confusion. He hadn't done anything to his body, not that he could remember at least. It had to be America. Alfred closed his eyes and concentrated on the pain in his leg.

"Mm… Alfred?" Matthew propped himself up on a hand to gaze at his brother. "Wha's goin' on?"

"'M not sure…" Alfred bit his lip and took a sharp intake of breath. "The Keys! Someone bombed the Keys!"

"What?" Matthew jerked upright, eyes wide open and alert. "Bombed? Are you positive?"

"Absolutely," Alfred murmured gravely. He stared at the carpeted ground, hundreds of thoughts running through his mind. Who would have bombed him? He knew that he- that is, America- had many enemies. He also knew that his arsenal was incredibly large, so it would be strange and, frankly, foolish to bomb one of the strongest military countries of the world without expecting swift and certain reciprocation. Americans were spiteful people and would most certainly call for the blood of whatever country had bombed him.

Alfred knew it was a country. There was something about the style, the feeling… it wasn't a random terrorist attack. It couldn't be.

Why? Why the Florida Keys? Of all the places in America, the Florida Keys was not high on priorities. It was so far south- the farthest south the country of America stretched, sans Hawaii and some of his territories- that it did not affect most of the big cities. It was a lovely tourist attraction, sure, but…

The burning increased and Alfred scowled. There were scattered mines detonating on the islands. He could feel the deaths of people, the fear, but also the heroism in his citizens. His people helping others. It fueled him.

"What are you going to do?" Matthew asked him quietly, crossing his legs and straightening slightly, watching Alfred carefully.

"I need to go to the Keys." Alfred said abruptly, swinging his legs over the couch and started to stand.

Matthew jumped to his feet and grabbed his coat, protesting. "Alfred, we're Minnesota. You can't go to Florida. That's… that's around 30 hours of driving! It's 11 pm!"

Alfred paused once, looking half over his shoulder solemnly. "Then why are you grabbing your coat and shoes?"

Matthew went silent. Alfred took this as consent and started out the door, turning all of the lights off on the way and grabbing his keys.

"Alfred…" Matthew started. "Are you going to use your influence?"

"If anything, now would be the time to use it."

Matthew said nothing else and followed Alfred into his sports car, one of the fastest. This paired with Alfred using his country influence would cut the time in half at the most, a third at the least. Alfred started the car and pressed down on the gas, quiet as death.

"Say something," Matthew commanded.

"I don't know what to say," Alfred blurted half a second after Matthew spoke. "I haven't been attacked like this in a while. I thought… I don't know what I thought. It hurts, mentally and physically, that the Keys were bombed… if they were the metropolis that New York City is then it would hurt just as much as 9/11, if not more… it's not just localized in the Keys, either. I can feel the other bombs detonating around the southern tip of Florida…"

Matthew blinked. He had not known it was that bad. If Alfred was comparing it to 9/11, then it must have been serious… and he could tell that Alfred was thinking of something else, too. He just had to articulate it carefully.

"Why are we leaving right now?" Matthew finally asked.

A beat, then, "Because I don't think that's it."

"What?" Matthew started, turning to stare at his brother violently, who was infuriatingly soft-spoken for once. "You think you're going to be bombed again? Within 24 hours of the Keys?"

Matthew's short breaths filled the car and Alfred's posture stiffened. He opened his mouth once then seemed to think better of it, a concentrated expression on his face. This alone was enough to worry Matthew, who knew better than anyone that his brother seldom thought before he spoke.

"It's not a describable feeling." Alfred's words did not make Matthew feel any better, but Alfred continued. "It's a gut feeling that this isn't it. That I need to start driving right away, or I'll miss something."

Matthew had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn't, and settled for staring out the window and watching the landscape blur passed. Alfred said nothing more, and the brothers delved into a tense and thought-filled silence.

It was three hours later when Alfred swore loudly and swerved, nearly slamming into a stop sign but curving away just in time. Matthew slammed his face into the window at the sharp turns and cursed in french under his breath, turning to glare at his brother only for the angry expression to melt away in concern.

"Alfred?" he asked slowly. Alfred grimaced and pulled over, opening the door and stumbling out onto the pavement. It was two in the morning and there were very few cars on the road, thankfully, but Matthew still scrambled out of the passenger's side and jumped to his brother's side. "Alfred!"

"'M good. I'm fine," Alfred grunted, clutching at his left thigh. His leg was spasming under his fingertips and Alfred didn't seem to know how to get it to stop. "Damnit."

Matthew assessed the situation, the gears in his head blatantly working. "Where?" he asked simply.

"Rhode Island," Alfred ground out.

"The entire state?" Matthew said in surprise.

"Yes. And-" he let out a huff of pained breath. "Massachusetts. Boston was… hit. All of Rhode and… Boston."

"All of Rhode Island? How is that possible?" Matthew tried to calculate the land area in his head and the amount of explosives needed but he didn't know the accurate measurements of Rhode Island or Boston, Massachusetts.

Alfred took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet. "I'm not sure… someone wants to cripple me. I can feel it. Dammit, where is my phone? I need to- shit!" His arm flew to clutch at his bicep and he wavered in place. Matthew rushed forward and supported him, concern rippling through his body. This was bad. This was very, very bad. "That was… St. Louis."

Matthew stared at the city spread before him. It was Madison, Wisconsin. The Keys had been bombed along with Boston, the entire state of Rhode Island, and now St. Louis. What was going on? Where was the American Defense?

Alfred flinched violently in his arms. Alfred felt pain burst in his shoulders and forearms, all down his side and through his legs. He would have collapsed to the ground if it weren't for Matthew supporting his weight.

"Where? Where now, Alfred?"

"I…" He stared but didn't see, the list of cities and states running through his mind. "I don't…"

"What was hit now, Alfred? You have to say something."

"I'm being attacked…" Alfred muttered weakly, straining his eyes to see visual evidence of the decimation happening in other parts of America.

"Yes, I know, but where?" Matthew prompted again.

"Portland… Dallas… Chicago… Denver, LA, Tucson… Memphis… Birmingham, Jackson, New Orleans…" Alfred started mumbling a jumbled list of cities, the pain in his body increasing all the while.

"Jesus Christ…" Matthew muttered, eyes wide at the casualties. Alfred tensed and bruises started appearing left and right. Dark red gashes were spreading across his body, puncture wounds splitting his skin. Alfred started to fall, unable to support any of his own weight, and Matthew laid him down gently, resting his head in his lap. "Alfred, stay awake."

"Atlanta… Chattanooga… Greensboro… Pittsburgh… Cleveland… Philadelphia… Olympia… Vermont…" he continued to mumble, eyes wandering over the sky. Suddenly he tensed, eyes widening ever so slightly. "Lots of cities, lots of lives, states, but we're missing…"

Matthew shifted, staring at his brother. He waited for a continuation.

Alfred started shaking. He was in so much pain. There were wounds scattered across his body and he felt the deaths of his people litter his skin like ants, suffocating him. He could barely think straight as the cities and entire states started to blur together. His imagined map of America started growing darker and darker red as his entire country was being bombed and attacked.

"Madison."

Matthew stared at the sky, watching the dark object descend. He heard nothing, felt nothing, as the bomb fell. It struck the earth and exploded into a brilliant plum of red, orange, and yellow. Ash coated the sky and blended into the black night. Matthew felt nothing, not the burning heat on his skin, not the debris scraping his arms. He covered his brother's body and thought. He ignored the screaming people, and pretended not to notice when they started going silent.

He simply lay there, protecting Alfred the best he could, with the broken nation muttering the names of former cities and states.

He had no idea how long he stayed there. The smoke had covered the sky and there was no sign of the sun, only the grey ash reflecting the atmosphere. More cities had been attacked throughout the night, but Matthew had no idea how far the calamities spread.

"Alfred…?" he spoke softly. The American had gone quiet over an hour ago. "Alfred, wake up." He shook the man, growing more and more frantic. "Alfred-!"

"Ughh…" Alfred let out a guttural moan, blinking his eyes open halfway. Matthew choked on air. Alfred's eyes were a dark, stormy grey, no longer the beautiful sky-blue he normally sported. His skin was splattered with openings and blood coated most of his body, soaking and clotting in his clothes. "M-atth-ew?"

"I'm here…" Matthew softly ran his fingers through Alfred's matted hair, murmuring quietly. "I'm right here."

"Hmm…" Alfred stared at the sky and slowly shifted his gaze to meet Matthew's bright violet eyes. He was quiet, watchful, and assessing the situation the best he could. Matthew waited, knowing that whatever Alfred would say next would be important and thought out.

Alfred mumbled something to himself and Matthew could not decipher it. Then the American started speaking louder with stuttering words.

"I… Alfred F Jones, representation of the United States of America…" he was muttering, not moving his gaze from Matthew's. Matthew furrowed his eyebrows and tried to understand Alfred's words.

"Er… yes, you are…" Matthew tried to interrupt, a sudden thought coming to mind, for these phrases sounded an awful lot like-

"Hereby transfer all of the land, military, and all other remaining personnel belonging to the United States of America…"

"Alfred, stop, what are you doing?" Matthew burst, frantically attempting to shut his brother up. He understood exactly what he was doing. Matthew did not want Alfred to go through with it.

"To the representation of Canada, Matthew Williams. I mark this day as the day the United States of America…"

"Stop! Stop! Alfred, stop! Please!"

"… No longer exists."

The world seemed to stop rotating. Matthew stared in disbelief, tears running down his face and onto Alfred's bloodied body. He knew why Alfred had done it. Alfred had known that he was going to die, or was going to become so weak that other countries would easily topple him and take control of the land. Alfred did not want his land going to anyone else and therefore transferred all of it, officially, over to Matthew. All of the land that was formerly America was now Canada.

"Alfred… I…" Matthew stuttered and leaned in close to his brother's face, choking on his tears.

"Love you, Mattie," Alfred smiled. His hand reached up to brush against Matthew's face, then it dropped to Alfred's chest. Alfred stuttered a few more breaths out and continued to smile, smile, smile against the world. Until he stopped. Stopped stuttering out breaths, stopped moving, stopped blinking… the smile fell without the muscles to support it.

"Alfred?" Matthew reached out a trembling hand and brushed it against Alfred's hairline. His skin was still warm, but when he pressed his fingertips to Alfred's neck, there was no heartbeat greeting him. Matthew moved his fingers a few times, growing more and more hysterical as he tried desperately to find a heartbeat. "Alfred?"

He stared down at the body of his brother. Matthew, suddenly overcome with emotion, shoved himself away from Alfred and heaved into the crater of a street. His stomach was emptied, his heart was emptied, his life…

Matthew was on his hands and knees, staring at the ground. Alfred, his brother, his partner in crime, one of the few that still saw him… was gone. He was gone, dead. Matthew never thought this day would come. They were immortal! They did not expect death!

Matthew turned his face to the sky and screamed. The sound tore from his burning throat and he released all of his pain, his misery, into the single, long, note. It filled the burned city and nothing moved. Matthew would not have been surprised if his scream was audible all the way in Europe.

His scream broke off into a sob, and Matthew broke down, crawling over to Alfred's cooling body. His brother was gone, and there would be nothing that would fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

-x-

"Do you know why I called you all here today?" Matthew questioned, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. His face was smooth and betrayed no emotion. His back was to his guests and he stared out of his immaculate window.

"I would hope so. For the first time in hundreds of years, Canada is the most important place on the planet. The last time I was this popular was when I was first being colonized and exploited." When he turned around to face his fellow nations, a small, cold smile was on his face.

The smile fell. "Three days ago, the United States of America was bombed across four hundred three major cities and had attacks in two hundred thirty-five more. These were not results of dissent among the American people. Whatever destroyed these cities and states- I apologize, _who_ ever destroyed these cities and states, my mistake- was not the Americans within their country. This was a full-blown terrorist attack from multiple angles that I believe was carried out with the influence of more than one nation."

"What!" England stood abruptly and slammed his hands on the table. "You think that we did this? Matthew, that's ridicul-"

"England, please calm down. I should add that my title is Canada, not Matthew, as you so eloquently stated," Matthew interrupted chillingly.

England blinked a few times and reddened. "I will not be talked to in this way, Matthew, I raised you!"

"And what a good job you did." Matthew smiled with his clearly-spoken words, so often mumbled that he could barely feel them leaving his lips. England stared at him, baffled by the change in character. "If you are done, I would like to continue."

With no more words forthcoming, Matthew turned his gaze to the window again. "I wonder… how many of you nations have been to Toronto?" When silence greeted his words he breathed air through his nose in vague irritation.

"I chose this meeting place carefully. As you can see, Toronto is rather close to Niagara Falls. Did you know, most tourists claimed that the Canadian side of Niagara Falls was prettier? Personally, I was always partial to the Canadian side, but that must be my own personal bias.

"Regardless, Niagara Falls was quite the attraction. Hundreds of thousands of gallons of water, cascading over the rocks only to crash violently at the bottom in plumbs of mist."

"M-Mr. Canada?" A tinny voice rose from the silence. "Um, A-Alfred took me to Niagara Falls once with my brother, but… why are you telling us this?"

Matthew turned around again, his expression a bit more relaxed than it was before. "That's a wonderful question, Italy Veneziano. Thank you for asking it." Italy relaxed, looking worried that he was going to be scolded.

Confused expressions wavered across the sitting nations' faces. To their knowledge, nobody called him Italy Veneziano except for his brothers, Romano and Seborga.

"Italy Veneziano, if you would come up here, please." Matthew waved for the nation and paired it with a welcoming expression to calm him. Italy carefully stood and bounded over to Matthew, unable to keep the spring out of his step even in lieu of the serious atmosphere.

"Can you see Niagara Falls?" Matthew gestured at the landscape. It was pristine buildings and paved streets and a long stretch of water, but on the other side of the water was a length of desolation and crumbling rocks.

"Um… no, I can't."

"Exactly. Because Niagara Falls, one of nature's most beautiful displays, no longer exists. There were explosives hidden among and in the rocks, and when they detonated, they destroyed Niagara Falls and all of the people visiting."

Matthew approached the table now, and leaned forward slightly. "I ask you all this: for what reason was there to destroy the nature reserves? The parks? The pieces of land that, for all intents and purposes, merely stood to better the environment?"

The silence stretched for some time and Matthew did not move until a solitary voice rang out.

"Why are you asking us this, Matthew?" France languidly leaned on the table, confusion apparent in his tone.

"I have said this, but my title is Canada-"

"Matthew, we are basically family, I can refer to you as-"

"I am Canada!" he burst out, slamming his hands on the table. The nations went silent at his outburst and he took a deep breath, regaining his composure. "I am Canada, thank you, as it is often forgotten. And I ask you all this because one, if not many of you, were the mind behind the destruction of many of the cities and states in the United States of America."

"Why is America not here to speak for himself?" Germany said gruffly, eyeing the table and setup suspiciously.

"Yes, should America not be the one defending his land?" China added in challengingly.

"It is called _America,_ not _Canada_ , after all," Austria inputted. A few other voices rang out with similar accusations and inquiries until Canada slammed his fist on the table, fury written on every pore of his face.

"At this moment in time, the land formerly known as the United States of America is now New Canada. The territories, the states, and everything formerly known as 'American' is now Canadian."

"Do you have any right to take all of that from Alfred?" England sniffed. "If America is in a tough spot and nations are vying for land, should not all of us get a piece?"

"I despise you, England," Matthew stated bluntly. Taken aback, England sat back in his chair. Matthew turned to France. "And you as well, France." Matthew then addressed the entire group. "I trust none of you and will be getting to the bottom of this. Canadian-America is mine, and I will not be giving any of it up. If anyone protests or challenges my credibility, I will provide you with apt proof."

France muttered something with irritation.

"What was that?" Matthew prompted, eyes icy.

"I said," France spoke up, a smirk on his face. "The only proof we would need is Alfred's own words, but he isn't here, is he? Where have you hidden him, representative of Canada and New Canada?"

"Alfred-" Matthew stopped, a lump stuck in his throat. "Alfred is-"

"Is he tied up in your basement?" Russia implored, a light smile on his face as he leaned his chin on his palm. "Is he drugged in your car?"

Matthew shook with anger and misery. "No, he's-" he stopped again and tried to collect himself. "He's…"

"Perhaps strapped to your counter?" Russia continued, his smile growing wider.

"Hidden in a castle?" France jumped in and added.

"Placed underground?"

"Muffled under stone?"

"Put into space, even?"

"Maybe he's-"

"He's dead!" Matthew burst. "He's dead, and all of you killed him!" Angry tears streamed down his face and he shook with rage. His melancholy feelings were buried under his fury. "This meeting is over. I have said what I needed to say."

Matthew turned on his heel and stalked out of a suddenly silent, tense, and very regretful room.

* * *

 **the ending is eh. also what is with me and hurting alfred lmao**

 **thank you** **forsain7** **and Pasta and Sin for reviewing! **


	3. GerFra

**A crackship and a crossover all in one how 'bout that**

 **(miraculous ladybug crossover. all you really need to know is that ladybug and chat noir are superheroes, and they don't know the other's identity. it's p obvious who is who to the reader, tho)**

* * *

"How does one romance another?" Francis bemoaned, slouching at his table in dismay.

Antonio laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "It is a surprise that you are asking me this, Francis. You are the most wanted boy in Paris."

"I don't want to woo a fan!" Francis exclaimed. "This is serious! I want to flirt and be flirted with!"

"Ooh, what's this I hear about flirting?" Gilbert slid into his seat with a mischievous expression. "Don't tell me the most chaste boy in school wants some?"

Francis shot him a look and Antonio once again, bless his soul, did not read the atmosphere. "Francis wants to woo someone!"

"Who? Who? Oh wait, wait, let me guess..." Gilbert hummed to himself and pressed on his temples dramatically for a few seconds. Francis raised his eyebrow, utterly unamused. "Is it... nope, lost it."

Antonio, who was enraptured with Gilbert's display, deflated slightly at the lack of result. "Well, Francis, who is it?"

Francis bit back a beam and settled for a small smile as he thought about his love. He was stoic and strong and ever so loyal. He had certain smiles and a certain roll of the eyes saved just for Francis (or so he liked to think). And while he often dismissed Francis's copious flirting, Francis could tell that his love's stone wall was slowly crumbling.

"Whoever it is, they're one lucky bastard," Gilbert said brashly, starting to laugh.

"Don't swear so loudly." Ludwig slipped into his seat quietly, taking his folders out for history. "It's-" he suddenly cut off and slammed his mouth shut, opting for silence.

Francis mentally shrugged; this was just another of his sort-of friend's quirks. He had come to accept it. They weren't super close, anyhow. He only knew Ludwig from that first day (however dramatic it was) and through Gilbert and Antonio.

"C'mon Francis, you gotta tell!" Gilbert prodded, leaning forwards on his table to get his face closer to Francis's. "Don't leave us hanging!"

"You all would laugh at me," Francis said stubbornly, avoiding Gilbert's gaze. His eyes settled on his ribbon bracelet and he fiddled with his absentmindedly.

"We would not laugh! Right, Gilbert, Ludwig?" Antonio protested, railing for their support.

"'Course not!" Gilbert's mirthful eyes said the opposite of his words and Francis kept his mouth shut, even pretending to zip it shut. "I am under oath!"

"Forgive me if I do not believe you, Gilbert," Francis added.

"Aw, Francis! I'm trustworthy!" Gilbert said, affronted. "Right, Luddy? Totally trustworthy!"

"It's Ludwig, and... and sure, Gilbert..." Ludwig murmured softly, reaching into his bag to grab a pencil and pen. Once he had the writing tools he flipped them through his fingers methodically, as if trying to distract himself or give himself something to do.

"Please, Francis?" Antonio stretched the words out and gave him a pleading look. And while Antonio may be oblivious to his naturally adorable nature, neither Francis nor Gilbert were.

Gilbert shot Francis a look that very clearly said, 'are you _really_ going to turn him down?'. Francis sighed and conceded.

"Fine... I think I... have a very serious crush on... Ladybug." Francis's voice trailed off into a whisper by the end of his sentence and his friends stared at him in the growing silence. Ludwig's face turned a little pink, Francis wondered if he was coming down with something.

"Dude..." Gilbert took a deep breath. "Everyone has a crush on Ladybug." Ludwig's face grew a little darker and Francis considered asking if he was okay.

"But I don't think this is just... a 'crush'," he said, making air quotes.

"You love him?" Antonio questioned. "Like, full-on, initials-in-hearts love?"

Gilbert groaned. "Toni, that's the sign of a crush, not love."

"Oh, really?" Antonio looked genuinely confused for a few moments. "I thought that was true love, like how Bella says in all of her movies she watches."

"Toni, you can't base you knowledge on love off of your little sister's disney movies..."

And just like that, the topic moved off of Francis's love life- or lack thereof. He joined the conversation at appropriate times and forgot about asking Ludwig if he was feeling alright, since Francis was certain that he wasn't supposed to look that red naturally.

-x-

"Chat Noir, keep up! You said you wanted to patrol together tonight, are you backing out?" Ladybug called out behind himself, slightly irritated with his partner. Ladybug had homework and a test to study for, and if the patrol took too long then he would be up into the wee hours of the morning.

"I would never back out of a once in a lifetime experience!" Chat Noir stated fervently but with an air of theatrics.

"Chat, we are partners. And, as the word dictates, we work together all of the time. This is not once in a lifetime." Ladybug chastised without missing a beat.

Chat Noir smiled to himself and ran across a rooftop to catch up with his partner. While Ladybug sounded more scolding than anything, Chat could sense the teasing lilt in his voice.

Also, Chat Noir was not behind Ladybug because he was slow (though he had no comment on whether or not he would win a race). The reason he had opted to drag slightly was because Ladybug looked so unbelievably _good_ when he was, well, patrolling. Jumping, running, being all-around amazing- all part of the job for Ladybug.

Chat Noir was so in love.

"Ladybug, I must tell you something!" Chat Noir said suddenly, stopping on a particularly flat roof and leaning on his baton. He had made sure to catch up to Ladybug so he would not have to double back too much.

Ladybug stopped and turned his head, not willing to walk over quite yet. "Yes?"

"It's very important to me!" Chat Noir added, a smirk landing on his face. He absentmindedly flicked some of his hair out of his face. When he transformed his hair became even longer than it was normally and occasionally, his luscious locks got in the way of fighting.

"Okay..." Ladybug obviously still doubted him yet he walked over to where Chat Noir was standing. "Chat, if this is another joke-"

"Erm..." Chat Noir stopped. He tried to think of another excuse, frantically, as he did not want to make Ladybug angry.

"Well... it's okay to take breaks every once in a while," Ladybug conceded, a genuine, tiny smile on his face. Chat Noir lit up and beamed a cheshire grin.

"What's a cat's way of keeping law and order?" Chat asked, eyes full of mirth and tail flicking playfully.

"I don't know, Chat, do tell," Ladybug said easily. Ladybug was so often stressed and uptight that Chat Noir was delighted that Ladybug felt comfortable enough to be at ease with him.

"Claw enforcement!" Chat Noir snickered and leaned on his baton.

Ladybug groaned in good nature, rolling his eyes.

"Aw, you have to admit that was a good one," Chat teased. Ladybug started walking away and Chat chased after him. "Okay, I got a better one. What kind of cat will keep your grass short?"

"I'm sure it's very important to saving Paris." Ladybug said in an almost snarky tone of voice.

"A lawn meower- hey, my jokes are imperative to saving Paris." Chat Noir protested in faux offence.

Ladybug made one of his famous noncommittal noises, "Mmhmm..."

Chat thought for a moment. "Here's a favorite: what's a cat's favorite color?"

Ladybug stopped near a chimney. "Let me guess... purr-ple?"

"Yes! Ladybug, you're getting good at cat jokes." Chat Noir praised, his genuine excitement for this development showing through his words.

Ladybug let out a small laugh; Chat beamed. "I'm not sure that is a good thing, Chat. Besides," he added, readying his yo-yo to throw. "You're quite the... clawful."

Chat Noir's jaw dropped and he stared, dumbfounded, as Ladybug twisted and jumped away after dropping that pun. Chat stood there for another solid ten seconds, reviewing that moment dozens of times over in his head.

He sighed. Chat Noir knew, especially now, that he was in way too deep.

* * *

 **blep**


	4. DenMano

**this was initially just an exercise, to get back into the groove of writing, but then... it got longer. ..**

* * *

Mathias jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his lungs. Just above him was a shining figure clothed in gold, white, and touches of red. Their wingspan blotted out the sun at one point upon their descent.

Lovino sighed in annoyance, the sound a little strange coming from the mouth of such a prestigious looking creature. He landed gracefully and approached Mathias daintily, carefully maneuvering his wings above the dirt-covered ground.

Mathias could barely wait and he launched himself in the direction of Lovino, throwing his arms around the winged man exuberantly. "Lovino! You're back!"

"I'm back," Lovino replied gruffly, only pretending to hesitate to wrap his own arms around Mathias. "I told you it wouldn't be that long."

Mathias twitched and retracted h is arms, running them over Lovino's shoulders and biceps. "Vino... you said not that long, I didn't think it would be... six months..."

"Six months?" Lovino blinked at the blond. "It wasn't six months."

Mathias laughed bitterly and moved his hands to lightly grasp Lovino's forearms. Lovino furrowed his brows slightly and Mathias said, "Lovino, I counted every day, every week, every month. It has been six months and four days since you left."

"I..." Lovino didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and he looked about him to solidify Mathias's claim. Instead of the warm colors of spring, of May, the trees were littered with darkly colored leaves. There was a blanket of fallen leaves covering the earth.

Mathias gently rubbed Lovino's cheek at the lost look on the avian's face. Eventually Lovino turned to face the man, grasping his face between his hands and staring into Mathias's eyes. Mathias started slightly at the sudden movement.

"Mathias, I swear to you, I was unaware of the length of time that had stretched. I knew it had been longer than anticipated, but..."

"I understand..." Mathias sighed and leaned into Lovino's touch. "I don't like it, but I get it. I know that time seems different over there... and I know about your responsibilities. This is forbidden and all, right?" Mathias smiled weakly. "Me being a human."

Lovino visibly winced and took a step back, leaving Mathias leaning into thin air. "Yes, this is technically forbidden... but, we have discussed that wonderful topic too many times, let us speak of something else."

Mathias's eyes brightened, if only somewhat, at Lovino's rare but beautiful optimism. "Your wish is my command, oh mighty angel."

Lovino groaned, rolling his eyes to the sky in amusement. "I told you, I am not an angel. I may have wings but there is so much baggage with the term."

"Oh, I know." Mathias winked at the avian cheekily. He started pulling Lovino towards his home by his wrist and Lovino allowed himself to be carted in that direction. "But to me, you're as angelic as they come."

Lovino felt his ears start to turn red and he looked away, smiling slightly at the sound of Mathias's tinkling laughter. This may be forbidden, but he was the happiest he had been in a long time, and Lovino was not going to easily give this up.

Lovino was frozen with anger and humiliation, balling his fists. His feathers moved with his emotions and he did nothing to halt the furious movement of his wings.

"Lovi-" Feliciano cried out, reaching out with his slender hand. He couldn't reach through the bars that kept everyone out of the court except for Lovino, a few guards, and the Supreme Ruler. Nobody knew the name of the Supreme Ruler (or his co-rulers) and he was known only as Rome. Even to his family, he was known only as Rome. Lovino's namesake, coincidentally.

"Romano Italy Lovino. You have broken one of our strongest laws without reproach. This is a heinous crime and you will pay for your actions with, as the law dictates..." Rome started firmly but he stopped and was unable to finish the sentence.

Lovino hated his title. He hated his title, his life- no, he did not hate his life. If it were not for his crash landing in the ravine and breaking his hallow-boned wing he would have never met Mathias.

He was very glad he met Mathias.

"I..." Rome trailed off. With a wave of his hand the bars that Lovino's family, friends, enemies, the entire village of Europa watched through solidified and opaqued until they were a solid wall. Lovino knew that they were now soundproof as well.

"Romano, I..." Rome looked at a loss for words. "I do not understand. You have always been... coarse, but I never would have thought you would stoop to such a level."

"Stop." Lovino took a breath and stared his grandfather in the eye. "Stop right there. With my crime you should not be using my title but as my grandfather you should have never done so anyway. My name is Lovino, my title Romano. Italy, the family name, one of the only family names, I got from you, Rome Italy. My grandfather, who's name I have never known.

"My title is nothing. And you speak so lowly of the humans, continuing the false witches tales and keeping hawks out for safety. I do not know all of the humans, but it is not so black and white as I was taught! There is more than just evil among the humans!"

"I see," Rome said gravely, his worry-filled eyes hardening. "You are naive, Lovino, to both forsake your title and to embrace the humans so fully. They will harm you. I have warned the flock of this many times, yet you still throw away my law. For this you will be ultimately punished. For you have not only disgraced the flock, but you have disgraced the family name. You are no longer part of Europa and you are to be no longer called Romano Italy."

"Great. Stripping me of my titles matters not. I hated being an Italy, and I hated being Romano. Down with the human, with... with a friend, I finally felt wanted," Lovino spat.

"Lovino. You do not understand. By breaking this law you do not have to suffer by being cast out of the flock and sent to live with the humans. That would be redundant, after all." Rome's eyes were chilled as that of a general. Lovino had not seen these for some time, and never directed at him. "No, Lovino. The punishment for this is death."

His blood turned cold. Lovino was not a particularly positive person but for the first time in his life, he had a reason to live.

And that reason was in a different prison for questioning about Lovino himself. Lovino was most likely not going to see him again before Lovino was... executed.

"I..." Lovino gulped in air, his throat closing up. "What of... Mathias?"

"Mathias?" Rome said distastefully. "Is that the name of the human you were cavorting with? Well, I suppose he'll be killed to, he knows too much about our kind."

"No!" Lovino exploded, his vision turning black for a split second. "Mathias can't be killed, he doesn't deserve it!"

"That is your own fault, Lovino. You knew that there would be consequences for dealing with a human," Rome reminded him.

"Mathias didn't do anything! He saved my life, you should be rewarding him! He has a family, a job, a life that he loves, you can't take that away! You can't take-" Lovino choked, the next sentence coming out in a whisper, "the best thing that's ever happened to me... away..."

Rome's wings rose and spanned out behind him. His large wingspan had never seemed so intimidating. "We can take away whatever we wish to take away, especially the life of a human."

Lovino fell to his hands and knees, vision blurring as he stared, terrified, at the ground. Rome approached his trembling figure and leaned in close.

"You made the bed. Now lie in it."

Mathias wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he was certain about one thing: these creatures had the coolest looking wings he had ever seen. They asked a few questions about what he knew about them, which was to say, a lot, but he did what he did best: play dumb. They gave up asking him after he answered "I mean, you guys are just angels, right?" one too many times.

The prison cell was nicer than a few he had been in before, too. It had mostly clean floors and everything was cold and sharply cut. He felt he was in a strange version of a cave, because he knew caves and this was not it.

He leaned against the stone (what he thought was stone) wall and waited. While he waited, however, he thought about Lovino. He liked thinking about Lovino.

Mathias hummed to himself and wondered what Lovino would do if he were here with him, in the prison. He would probably storm around and pout cutely about getting let out. Perhaps he would mention how awful the conditions of the cell was.

"Human. Stand," the commanding voice of one of the creatures sounded. Mathias rolled his eyes. These things were so pretentious.

"It's Mathias, thanks," he said for the fourth time in ten minutes. Despite this, he stood, and only complained a little (in the most annoying, obnoxiously loud voice he could manage) when they strapped him into a thing and carted him away to a different area.

There were other avians around him at some points and they all stared and whispered. He would have saluted the dozens of observers but his arms were restrained. All he could do was make faces, which received a funny enough response that he was satisfied.

"Human," a rather large avian said lowly. "You are the reason for Romano Italy Lovino's infringement, correct?"

Mathias channeled his inner 'Lukas' and waited patiently for the gag to be taken off his mouth (to his surprise, it didn't hurt in the least, unlike duct tape). "Well, that depends, doesn't it, sir? Mainly on what the infringement was. If the infringement-that's fun word, I should use it more-was on being happy for the first time, then yes. If the infringement was having fun and smiling more often, then I would say yes again. However, there are many cases I would have to say no. Such as, inflicting pain on others, destroying happiness, perhaps even ruining lives? No, he did not make an... infringement. But those laws aren't laws to be broken here, anyway, from what I understand of what is happening right now."

There was a beat of silence before Mathias grinned cheekily and said, "Correct?" in the same tone the imposing avian before him had used. He also thanked Lukas's many (many) lessons on speaking eloquently and using certain loopholes to his advantage. The lawyer's lessons had never been more valuable.

Eventually the avian before him sighed and leaned back. "I do not believe you understand the gravity of the situation, human-"

"Mathias," he muttered. The avian ignored him and continued.

"Because you are not going to be able to see Romano Italy again."

"I... what? Excuse me?" Mathias snapped. "You're going to ban him from seeing me? That's rich and unfair, thanks. Also, what the hell are you doing calling him Romano Italy? He hates his titles."

"I am the Supreme Ruler Rome. I have already decided both of your fates, you should not be feeling so confident."

Mathias curled his lip. "You're Rome? That explains a lot."

The avian, Rome, once again ignored him. "I digress. You, human, and Romano Italy, are not going to see the next sunrise."

There was a pregnant pause.

"You're going to kill us?" Mathias exploded. He saw red. "Just because one of your oh-so-special winged humans became b... became friends with a human? What the hell is wrong with you? This is not the Little Mermaid, this is reality!"

"You are right for once, this is reality. And the reality is that you two are going to be put to death for both of your actions," Rome said gravely.

"What! I-" Mathias was cut off when Rome gestured and a guard slammed their wing into his stomach. He yelled in surprise and pain, but after the initial yells he simply pressed his lips together and glared, not wanting to be less than prime condition for whatever may await him.

Mathias was forced to turn around and was shoved forwards. He stumbled out of the large room and caught sight of Lovino, who was being lead somewhere else.

"Lovino!" Mathais cried out, straining against the avians' tight grips. His muscles tensed and he elbowed one avian in the gut, giving him the opportunity to break free of the other avian's hold and bolt to Lovino, who had turned at the sound of his name and was gaping at him.

"Mathias?" Lovino managed.

"Vino-" Mathias reached for him and frantically brushed his hands over Lovino's shoulders, his arms, his wings, before someone (or something) slammed into him and forced him to the wall, pressing him against it harshly.

"Mathias!" Lovino shifted and pushed against the hands that held him captive. "Stop, don't hurt him! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Lo-" Mathias felt something crush against his windpipe and he choked. "-vin-" Something hard smashed into the back of his knees and he collapsed to the floor. His hands were re-shackled, much tighter than before, and he started getting dragged away.

He twisted hysterically and yelped in pain at a particularly harsh shove. Lovino cried out in response. "Mathias, I never meant for this to happen, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault, I-"

"Lovino!" Mathias said rapidly. "I don't regret- I would do it all over again!"

As he was dragged out the hallway with finality, Lovino swore he heard an "I will stand by you!" hanging in the air. Unfortunately, he didn't get to muse about it and was forced into the interrogation room.

Neither the captives nor the captors noticed the frozen, wide-eyed avian with brown feathered wings standing in the corner, their clipboard clenched tightly in their hands.

"Romano Italy?" A voice sounded from outside of his cell and Lovino scowled.

"I no longer respond to those... wretched titles," Lovino said simply, staring at the stone walls.

"Okay... Lovino, I wasn't sure if you would let me call you by your name."

"Why not? We've known each other long enough; I consider you my... er... my friend, by now," Lovino was proud to say he only stumbled over the word a bit, and he knew it was from the lessons Mathias had dubbed 'destroying denial'.

"Oh! I am... glad, but now is not really the time."

Lovino made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat and said no more. The two delved into a heavy silence, the air thick with things unsaid and their rapid moving thoughts. Eventually Lovino looked up at his companion, his eyes landing on their wings. Before he would have felt envy, but all he felt was deep-rooted sadness.

Their wings were wide and strong, coated in beautiful brown feathers of varying shades that were lined with white. They were perfect for hunting, gorgeous to a fault, and oh-so unassuming until they spread them intimidatingly. It was good for the general population that they seldom spread them intimidatingly.

"Why are you here?" Lovino finally asked, shattering the silence.

They shifted their wings awkwardly and avoided Lovino's searching gaze.

"Antonio." Lovino stated. The man looked at him, his mouth parting in surprise. Lovino rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you're acting like I'm glass."

"You don't like using my name," Antonio said, pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes infinitesimally.

"I didn't like using your name since it has been drilled into my head to use titles. After... well, now I prefer names. It's more... human."

"We aren't human," Antonio reminded him.

Lovino bristled and turned to glare at the wall. "Do you think I don't know that?" he spat. "It's because I'm not human I am in here, jailed for speaking with someone not of our species."

Antonio moved his eyes from Lovino's figure to the two guards standing a dozen feet away. He looked the other direction and saw two more guards in similar positions. He blinked and worried his lip.

Lovino watched this with confused curiosity. Antonio tended to be an open book, so his random stares and expressions were puzzling. "Antonio, why are you here?" he asked again.

Antonio leveled his gaze with Lovino's and smiled. It was close-lipped and smaller than his usual beams. Lovino simply stared at him blankly. If he didn't know Antonio better, he would say that smile looked a little sad.

Antonio let out a controlled breath of air and stepped away from Lovino. "I... am very sorry for what I am about to do."

"What?" Lovino startled. Antonio ignored him and walked away with a quick stride, approaching the guards. Before Lovino could blink Antonio had opened one of his large wings and smashed it into the face of one of the guards, missing their flesh with his talon by a mere hand width.

Lovino, shocked, could do nothing but stare.

Antonio, using the surprise of the second guard to his advantage, brought their face down to his knee. He leaned down and pressed on both of their brachial veins on their wings, maneuvering his fingers in a way only a trained soldier could. Lovino watched, dumbfounded, as Antonio stalked past his cell again, the two guards out cold, and proceeded to down to other two, who were ready this time, but were ultimately unable to defend themselves against the strongest avian Europa had.

Lovino had known about Antonio's war background. He knew that Antonio was trained, that he was stronger than most, and that he was in actuality more deadly than anyone knew. And yet, with Antonio's common sunshine-y personality, Lovino had never thought twice about it. Now, looking at Antonio's serious green eyes, Lovino swallowed uncomfortably.

Antonio tugged at the lock. "Do you know where the keys are?"

Lovino coughed slightly. "No, I don't."

"Hmm." Antonio merely examined the lock for another second or two before carefully positioning his talon and bringing it down harshly. The metal crunched harshly and Antonio wiggled it until it released, the bars swinging open.

Lovino gaped at him. Antonio held his hand out in offering, the serious expression barely wavering. "We're going to need your speed to get Mathias out."

"Out?" Lovino said in a daze, taking Antonio's hand and following the spanish avian. "We're getting out?"

"I... yes, Lovino, we're getting him out, what did you think I was doing?" Antonio's carefully put together composure cracked slightly and his former demeanor shined through. "I cannot stand our awful justice system."

Antonio lead him down another hallway and jerked him into a room, slamming him against the wall and peeking out the doorway. Lovino yelped in surprise, twisting away from Antonio's grip. "What the hell?"

"There's a secret entrance!" Antonio smiled exuberantly, his normal personality returning. Lovino let out a silent breath of relief. He didn't know how much longer he could have handled soldier-Antonio.

"Where-?" Lovino broke off as Antonio moved a table out of the way and opened a trapdoor, beaming at Lovino. "Of course." Antonio disappeared down the trapdoor and Lovino followed, grumbling quietly under his breath.

"It's a maze down here! They made us memorize it in training, though, so I know where Mathias is being kept!" Antonio said in an upbeat tone. He walked with confident strides, unwavering in the tight confines, unlike Lovino, who felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"Here." Antonio hefted himself up and lightly pushed the trapdoor open, peering out with narrow eyes. A few seconds later he pulled himself through the trapdoor and out of sight. His head appeared in the window of light, a grin plastered on his face. "C'mon!"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows and tried to spread his wings far enough to gain some air. There was no room, however, and he scraped a few feathers off in the process. He hissed in annoyance.

"I'll help you up, here!" Antonio leaned both of his arms through the opening and Lovino, irritated, grabbed onto his wrists and allowed himself to be brought up through the trapdoor. After he was through, missing a few more of his orange feathers in the process, Antonio shut the trapdoor and moved a bookshelf in front of it.

Antonio brushed his hands off and cocked his head to the side in thought for a few moments before he walked over to a window that was blurred. "This is Mathias's room," he pointed.

Lovino searched for a clasp. "Where does it open?"

"Here," Antonio said, pushing a latch and lifting the window out of the sill. He grunted in effort and placed it on the ground heavily, and Lovino stepped on the thick glass and squeezed his narrow shoulders as far into the windowsill as he could without dislocating his wings. His head was barely in the room, and he blinked at the all-stone room. There wasn't even hay for a bed.

He caught sight of a curled shape in the corner and paled. Mathias's breaths were hitched and he seemed to be shivering. "Mathias!" he hissed through his teeth. There was no reaction. Lovino huffed a breath of annoyance.

"Antonio, give me a rock or something!" Lovino turned his hand upright and felt a cold object press into his palm. He brought his hand to his face and stared.

"It was all I could find!" Antonio's muffled voice sounded defensive and Lovino snorted. He reached his arm out of the windowsill and chucked the candlestick and Mathias's head. Lovino's aim was spot-on and Mathias jerked, blinking his eyes blearily.

Lovino waited not-so-patiently as Mathias slowly woke, rubbing at his eyes and hair and temples. Mathias's eyes met Lovino's and he froze. Lovino brought his finger to his lips and shimmied back through the windowsill, plopping onto the ground and waiting.

A grunt sounded and Mathias heaved himself up and tried to push himself through the opening. "This is... tight."

"You should fit, without wings," Antonio commented. Mathias huffed and forced himself further. He grunted again and managed to squeeze his way through it, tumbling to the ground below. Antonio had had the foresight to move the glass of the window or Mathias would have cracked his head on it.

"Ohhhh..." Mathias moaned. "That was not fun." Lovino almost rolled his eyes when he realized that Mathias was not wearing a shirt and had scraped up his shoulders, arms, his entire torso while trying to get through the gap. It was worst on his shoulders and elbows.

"What the hell? Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Lovino dropped to his knees and brushed his fingers over a few of the scrapes.

Mathias shrugged helplessly. "They scratched my back up and I didn't want cloth on it."

"They... what?" Lovino said slowly.

"It's not bad," Mathias denied, propping himself up until he was sitting without help. "They just wanted to see what it was like att- scratching a back not impaired by wings."

Lovino leaned around Mathias and stared, eyes darkening. It wasn't too bad, as Mathias said, but there were long talon marks down his back and across his spine. Many were across his shoulder blades.

"Lovino, we should get out," Antonio said, opening a different door that was three feet tall and hidden behind a fake plant. Lovino ignored the anger boiling in his stomach and the want to disembowel the avians that scratched up Mathias and made for the door, Mathias on his heels.

The three of them crawled through another tunnel (which did not help Lovino's growing anxiety) until there was a dip in the crawl and suddenly, Lovino was blinded. Antonio had jumped out of the gap and opened his wings, riding on air.

He followed the spanish avian and tumbled into open air, free falling for a few seconds before opening his own wings and beating them rapidly. Lovino came up to the opening and leveled his gaze with Mathias, who was staring wide-eyed at the two avians.

"Are you going to carry him?" Antonio asked him loudly, talking over the wind. Lovino paused, then nodded. He wasn't particularly strong but he did not want to see Antonio carrying Mathias. Besides, Antonio would not be able to get close enough to the hole without losing more than a few feathers.

Mathias slowly edged himself out of the opening and Lovino carefully opened his arms, grabbing Mathias and pulling him the rest of the way out. Before they departed completely from the tunnel Lovino adjusted his grip to make both of them more comfortable and to maximize his control.

Lovino grunted and dropped a few wing lengths when he initially flew into open air, and Mathias squeaked and latched his arms around Lovino's neck. Lovino could feel his strength slowly sapping away, so he jerked with his head to signal to Antonio where he was going, then pushed himself in that direction. Eventually he streamlined, flying headfirst towards the forest.

He heard a yell and turned his head, paling at the sight of an array of guards. Antonio noticed them too and motioned for Lovino to continue. Lovino didn't think twice about it, turning back around to focus on staying constant, until Mathias tensed in his grip.

Lovino glanced behind him again and slowed in shock, dropping them another few wing lengths. Antonio was fighting the guards single-handedly, and he was quite obviously losing. However, he was managing to keep the guards from getting away towards Lovino and Mathias.

"Go, he's trying to save us, let him," Mathias whispered into his ear. Lovino shot him a betrayed look but faltered when he saw the pain reflected in the man's own eyes. Wordlessly, Lovino re-positioned himself and started up his momentum.

He glanced behind him once more to see his friend falter and fall, plummeting to the earth. A few guards went after him while the others looked around for Lovino and Mathias.

Lovino flew low into a ravine, the same ravine he had broken his wings in before, and searched for Mathias's home. The avians had not caught them at Mathias's house, so they did not know he lived there, and Lovino could not think of another place to go.

When he blinked against the wind, a few tears slipped out of his eyes.

He came upon Mathias's home and tumbled to a halt, collapsing to his hands and knees. It had been a while since he had exerted himself that much, and the old breaks in his wings were aching.

"Here," Mathias murmured, standing up and propping Lovino up with his arm. They both stumbled over their feet and supported each other all the way inside. When they were in the safety of the house Mathias slammed the door shut and faceplanted into his couch. Lovino just sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Mathias's muffled voice sounded from the cushions. He turned his head and met Lovino's eyes. Lovino liked Mathias's eyes. They were a beautiful blue color, the color of the sky in the north, and it was what originally captivated Lovino.

"It's..." Lovino couldn't quite say it was okay, because it really wasn't, without knowing what had happened or was going to happen to Antonio. "It's..."

"I get it. I am sorry, though." Mathias hummed to himself, searching Lovino's face. "I love you."

Lovino blinked. It was the first time either one of them had said those three fateful words, and Lovino was pleasantly surprised that he had little hesitation in saying, "I love you too," right back, paired with a small smile.

Mathias's face worked into a wide smile, and they sat there, in the aftermath of everything, in silence.

* * *

 **anyone who is actually reading this / cares, if you have a crackship you want more people to fan-freak about (definition of crackship includes ships that are likely to never become canon), an obscure ship, or even if you want to squeal about a new chapter on your favorite 100k+ spamano fic, hmu.**

 **((update: I thought y'all should know,,,,, that Antonio's wings are a spanish imperial eagle and Lovino is a european bee-eater in case u wanted to look them up,,,, they are very pretty wings for both))**


	5. GerKraine

**this is a very Soft Ship .**

* * *

Requested by : Alexandria (guest)

Katyusha set down her pencil and frowned. The problems in front of her swam before her eyes and she closed her eyelids, pressing the heels of her hands against them in hopes to quell her growing headache. Studying always made the night seem longer, and when she looked at the clock, it was only 10 o'clock pm. She blinked again. Perhaps she should call it a night.

When she glanced down at the math sheet, her temples pulsed painfully and decided it for her. She meticulously packed up her things and placed her bag next to the counter where she would find it easily in the morning, then softly walked to the bathroom, which she shared with sister. Ivan branched off and switched his bedroom with the guest room (and in turn switching bathrooms) when he found one too many tampons and pads stuffed into the trashcan.

She giggled at the thought of her blushing brother when he explained the reasons behind the switch. Natalya had been dismayed but could do nothing but angrily stomp around for a few weeks before that too passed.

Katyusha quietly got ready for bed. She knew Natalya was awake but out of politeness she stayed quiet. She was exhausted, and the math problems were not helping any. Math was a problem for her.

She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

-x-

"Oh, that's just fine!" she said brightly, smiling up at her brother. Her compliance only seemed to make Ivan more uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?" he sounded dubious but unwilling to completely contradict her.

"Of course! I do not control your life or the friends you choose, and I'm very happy that you are branching out from our neighbors!" she beamed at Ivan, who mumbled something, perhaps a thanks, before turning around and walking off to class. Her smile dipped a little now that he was not there to see it.

"Katy, who's going to tutor you now?" Elizabeta frowned. "Ivan has plans, obviously, and your final is tomorrow."

Katyusha felt her hope start to dwindle. "I'm sure I'll be fine!"

"You were texting me about how hard studying was just this morning," Elizabeta reminded her. They walked in silence for a few steps before she continued. "I'm just worried for you..."

Katyusha hummed quietly in thought. "I suppose I can try to find a new tutor..."

They stopped at Elizabeta's classroom and Katyusha startled when Elizabeta grabbed her arm firmly. Her friend had a determined glint in her eye. "I will find you a tutor by the end of the day."

"Oh, you don't need to bother yourself!" Katyusha said, a little concerned at how certain Elizabeta sounded.

"No," Elizabeta stated. "It's in return for all those favors you have done for me."

Before Katyusha could get a word in edgewise, Elizabeta strutted into her classroom, waving goodbye to Katyusha. She slowly turned on her heel and started walking down the hallway to her first class, dimly hearing Elizabeta's loud voice carry through the din of the hallway, yelling about (or at) someone named Gilbert.

-x-

"A kid jumped out the window today in science," Katyusha said blandly. Elizabeta and Bella stared at her in disbelief. "It was a good thing the roof was right outside the window. His friends had to drag him inside before the professor got there, though."

"Oh," Bella breathed out, laughing softly. "I thought someone had fallen from the second story for a second there, Katy!" Elizabeta snickered and Katyusha laughed with them. She paused, however, when Elizabeta froze with narrowed eyes.

"Eliza?" she asked. The girl said nothing and instead stalked over to a group of boys.

"She probably saw one of them staring at you," Bella said, peered around Katyusha to confirm. "Or something more inappropriate."

"Oh..." Katyusha looked down and frowned. She never showed cleavage and nearly got a binder to stop men and boys from looking at her strangely, but was stopped by both Natalya and Ivan for differing reasons.

Eliza's voice was raising as she got more fired up and Katyusha looked on in concern. One of the boys made an obviously disdainful comment one second and was on the ground the next, Elizabeta's knee on his back and arm twisted unnaturally. He cried out in shock and pain and Elizabeta released him with a dark whisper before bounding back to her friends.

They didn't comment and continued walking down the hallway to lunch.

"Oh, that reminds me, I got a tutor for you!" Elizabeta directed her comment at Katyusha. "He's really smart, nearly the top of the class if you forget about that dweeb Alfred and your brother, and he respects women! Oh, and he's Gilbert's brother, but I think all of the good genes went to him and all the bad to Gilbert, so you're good."

"Eliza, don't be so mean to Gilbert," Katyusha chastised her.

Eliza brushed her scolding off with the wave of her hand. "Puh-lease, we grew up together, we're basically siblings. I have every right to insult him."

"Just like Roderick?" Bella said.

"Yup. But if anyone else insults them..." her tone trailed off lowly and the other two girls laughed. They had seen the end of Elizabeta's wrath many a times, and it was always for justice for someone or another.

"Who is it? I mean, what's his name?" Katyusha asked.

"Ludwig Bielschmidt." Eliza shifted her hold on her bag. "Don't worry about it, he's super chill. Actually he's not, but he's nice, anyway."

"Oh, I've heard of him!" exclaimed Bella. She continued, chattering about engineering and the totally misogynistic tech professor.

The conversation veered into other topics, but Katyusha's mind was stuck on her mysterious (or not-so, she knew she had a tendency to make a mountain out of a molehill) tutor. Nerves started fluttering in her chest. He was a stranger to her, and she was going to get math help from him.

She tried to push her thoughts to the back of her mind and forced herself to add to the conversation between Bella and Elizabeta. The feeling, however, did not dissipate completely.

-x-

She had hoped to be a bit early so she could collect herself before meeting the boy who was meant to help her not-fail her math final. Of course, life does not always (ever) go as planned, and she arrived at the library ten minutes early to find Ludwig already there. He was reading a book, his textbooks stacked neatly beside him.

Katyusha swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm her fluttering nerves.

"Hi, I'm Katyusha, I believe Eliza organized you to be my tutor?" she smiled nervously. _Eliza organized you to be my tutor? What kind of convoluted sentence...?_

"Yes, I am Ludwig, pleased to meet you." He held his hand out and she shook his hand, trying to copy Ivan's strong handshake but knowing it was too limp. His hand was warm and covered in calluses.

There was an awkward moment where she went to sit down and nearly broke his glasses, but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were a soft blue color, and Katyusha was reminded of the sky during summertime.

His voice was a low baritone with a german accent that she could tell he was trying to cover up, and she forced herself to pay attention to the words he was saying instead of his voice alone (after all, she was here to learn).

"Which unit do you think you need the most work on?" Ludwig asked.

"Oh, um... I- I would say lesson eight..." Katyusha bit her lip and stared at her math book. Ludwig made a small noise of affirmation and flipped to the section. His fluid movements and calm tone was loosening the knots of nervousness in her stomach. Breathing came easier and, in turn, so did focusing.

The problems did not seem any simpler, but Ludwig walked her through it, circling the formulas she should write on her note sheet and explain, in her own words, how to use. Eventually the equations started feeling familiar and eventually, she was able to do an entire page of equations without Ludwig's helpful instructions. A proud feeling spread through her being and Ludwig gave her a small, but genuine, smile.

"I think I understand it now," she said quietly, unsure if she was soft-spoken out of awe or shock. Maybe both. Her hands moved to put away her pencils.

"If you are feeling confused, contact me. Your final is seventh hour, correct?" Ludwig started packing his things away once he saw she was done.

"There's no need-" she said sheepishly, not wanting to impede on Ludwig's kindness. They both stood, bags in hand, and began walking towards the entrance.

"It's no trouble on my part." Ludwig smiled his small, beautiful smile again. Katyusha felt warm. "And besides, between you and me..." he leaned in close for dramatic effect but not too close to be uncomfortable, "Elizabeta threatened to kidnap my dogs." The twinkle in his eyes caused Katyusha to know that he was either not serious or that Elizabeta's threat was not needed for his help regardless.

"Here," Katyusha said, fumbling only slightly with her phone. "Would you mind giving me your number? I don't think we have the same lunch."

"Of course." Ludwig plugged his contact information into her phone and lightly placed the device back into her hands. "I know you will do well on your final tomorrow. Get good sleep, eat a good breakfast."

She laughed softly. "Thank you, Ludwig. Thank you for all of your help, I'm sure I would not have a chance at passing without you."

His cheeks dusted pink. "Erm, your welcome..."

In a split second decision she reached up and kissed him swiftly on the cheek. Drawing away, she gave him a wave and walked to her car. That warm, soft, fluttery feeling was still there.

Before she shut the her car door, she glanced back at Ludwig. He had just started to move, and she could tell that his face was red, even from across the parking lot. She smiled and shut the door, placing her hands on the wheel, key in the ignition, foot on the brake... and sat. She collected her scattered thoughts in the quiet of the vehicle.

Katyusha remembered Ludwig's quiet gaze, his warm voice, his soft hands, and hoped that his number was going to be used for so much more than math help in the future.

* * *

 **life is meh, amiright?**

 **/review :D?/**


	6. PruAme

**this is originally for my longer piece, Wrong Number (which is under heavy construction right now), but it ended up being, like... 2500 words more than I was expecting.**

 **also I love it a lot and wanted to share it with you guys :p**

* * *

Alfred narrowed his eyes at his reflection. Mathias was in the hospital, so it was just him and Gilbert for a few days. Of course, this was not good on his… well, his unhealthy crush on his best friend. They were going to do all of the things they usually did as a trio, but they were going to do it… alone.

When Alfred complained to his brother about it, Matthew told him he was being melodramatic and to suck it up.

After running his hands carefully through his hair one last time (it would undoubtedly get mussed within minutes), he straightened his clothes. He shoved his phone in his pocket and jumped down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last two but catching himself on the railing.

"Mattie!" Alfred called to his brother with a broad grin on his face. Matthew turned to him with a raised eyebrow, the little smartass.

"Yes, Al?" He questioned, making it obvious he did not care one bit about what Alfred was about to say.

"I'm chilling with Gil in ten." He plopped himself down on the couch next to his brother, staring at the TV blankly.

"Why in ten minutes? Why aren't you leaving now?" Matthew suggested.

Alfred snorted. "Your girlfriends are coming over, aren't they? Chill, I'm not gonna be here for long. Because he has to do something with his brother."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at his brother, studying his posture. Then he leaned forwards and tapped him on the shoulder. "Al?"

"Yeah Mattie?" Alfred shot his brother a weak side smile and Matthew's eyebrows furrowed even further.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh… fine, why?"

Matthew tapped on his lips in thought. "No, you're not. Is this about… oh my god, is this about your crush?"

Alfred froze. "Uh-"

"Al," Matthew warned.

"Yeah… yeah, it is. I just…" Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he could never rid himself of. His hair was, once again, untidy.

"Al, I didn't know-" Matthew sighed and moved closer to his brother, pressing against his arm comfortingly. "I didn't know you were so insecure about this."

Alfred shot him a helpless glance.

Matthew steeled himself. "If it's this bad, you should probably tell him-"

"No!" Alfred shouted on impulse, startling Matthew away from him. "No," he continued softer. "It would completely ruin our friendship. Can you imagine? We wouldn't be able to hang out anymore… and do you know what that would do to Mathias? He would be devastated that his best friends weren't best friends anymore… and you know I can't do that to Mathias of all people, he's had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime."

Matthew shifted his hand so he was rubbing Alfred's back, something their mother used to do to comfort them. "Okay," he started in his naturally soft voice. "You don't have to tell him yet. But Al, make sure you aren't hurting anyone by keeping quiet, okay?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Matthew thought for a moment. "Sometimes you get so wrapped up in yourself that you forget about those around you."

Alfred turned away and nodded sagely. He knew that his brother was being intentionally hurtful, but it still stung hearing that sometimes he was so selfish that he couldn't see past his own ego.

"You aren't selfish, Al." Matthew bit his lip as he said so- he knew it wasn't completely true, but his brother needed a pick-me-up. "You just get so worried about hurting other people that you don't realize that- oh, maple, I'm not helping any, am I?"

Alfred laughed. "Nah, you're fine. Thanks anyway, bro. I'm feelings lots better!" He plastered an obviously fake grin on his face, beaming at nothing.

"Relax, Al." Matthew receded back to his former position. "Just relax."

Alfred drew a shaky breath and smiled, this one smaller but more genuine. "I'll try." He pushed himself to his feet. "Well, I better get going! Have fun with your girls!"

Matthew snorted. "If they stop arguing for three seconds I just might. See you later."

"Bye!" Alfred shoved his shoes on and bounded out the door, breathing in the cool air. He walked with a spring in his step all the way to Gil's house. He tried to door and found it locked. He didn't hesitate to pound on his best friend's door, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting while he waited.

When the door finally opened he opened his mouth to jokingly complain about how " _Man, took you long enough!"_ when he realized it wasn't his favorite albino.

"Oh, hey Ludwig! Long time no see, how's it hangin?" his smile was different than the one that was to be directed at Gilbert, more of a side grin, like it was hanging off of his face by one hinge.

"Alfred. Gilbert said you would be coming. He's in the shower, I forced him to take one before anything else…" Ludwig sighed in a way that made Alfred question if he really was the younger brother. "Come in, make yourself at home… avoid the kitchen for now, though."

"'Kay!" Alfred flounced into the house and ignored Ludwig's latter warning, curiosity forcing him to peek in the kitchen. It looked like a tornado had flown through while all of the ingredients for baking were out. There were eggs dropping to the floor, milk puddling on the counters, and dry powder covering nearly every cabinet and surface.

"Woah," he breathed, leaning around the doorway. "What happened?"

"Gilbert happened," Ludwig brushed by him and Alfred smelled the fresh scent of soap, leading him to believe that Ludwig had also just showered, most likely as a result of the trashed kitchen. Ludwig started the lengthy process of cleaning and Alfred fidgeted at the doorway.

After a few seconds of deliberation he stepped into the kitchen and picked up a rag, starting to wipe the cabinets down. It took a solid minute before Ludwig even noticed he was still there, but once he did, he protested instantly.

"This isn't your house nor your mess, you don't have to help-"

"Nah, it's all good! I'd be bored anyway," Alfred said reassuringly, carefully avoiding an egg on the floor. "Where are your mops?"

Ludwig reluctantly told him where the cleaning supplies are, and Alfred cheerfully grabbed them. The two of them have made a notable dent in the mess by the time Gilbert comes down.

"Yo, Alfie! When'd you get here?" His hair was still wet and his t-shirt was sticking to his body.

Alfred swallowed and turned his gaze to the counter, where he was wiping some milk up. "A couple minutes ago."

"He's been here for a solid ten minutes at least, Gilbert, what took you so long?" Ludwig eyed him scrutinizingly and Alfred winced slightly.

"Ahah, sorry, man." Gilbert then took in what was actually going on and he narrowed his eyes. "Luddy, bro, you're making him clean?"

"No!" Alfred interjected before Ludwig could get a word in edgewise. "I decided to help, 'cause I would be bored otherwise."

Gilbert blinked at him. "You're weird."

Alfred snorted, putting the rag down. "You just figured that out?"

Gilbert cracked a smile and walked over, taking the rag from his hands and chucking it at Ludwig, who just barely caught it. Ludwig glared at Gilbert, who didn't notice and threw his arms around Alfred, pulling him away from the kitchen.

"Oh-kay, now that we're away from that lameness." They stopped in the living room and Gilbert removed his arm (much to Alfred's chagrin). "What do you want to do?"

Alfred shrugged. "We could try to freak out the convenience store owner again."

"Nah," Gilbert snickered but denied him. "I don't think we can top the lighters and bug spray while wearing scorched clothes."

"True, true…" Alfred pretended to stroke his non-existent beard. "Hmm. I got nothing."

"I know!" Gilbert exclaimed. "Let's go swimming in the lake!"

"Dude." Alfred stared at him. "It's like, 40 degrees outside."

"40 degre…?" Gilbert blinked at him before laughing. "Oh! Alfred, you're so american!"

He realized his mistake and rolled his eyes, ignored the heat that he felt rush to his face. "Shut up! I meant, four degrees or whatever the hell it is you europeans say!"

Gilbert laughed. "Anyway," he said, quieting somewhat. "So what?"

Alfred thought about it for a second before shrugging. "Meh. Let's go, we'll stop by my house to grab a suit. We're going to that hidden spot, right? With the swing!" Alfred ended his sentence with a yell as Gilbert rushed off to find his own swimsuit.

Gilbert yelled an affirmative back at him and Alfred swung his arms, trying not to think about how they would be shirtless and very, very alone.

And cold and wet. That too.

 _You could warm each other up_ \- he shut that thought down before it got anywhere, not wanting to get his hopes up.

 _Too late,_ he touched his face and felt the warmth of his cheeks on his fingers. _Shit._

"Ready? Let's go!" Gilbert jumped down the last two stairs and pushed the front door open, donned in a swimsuit and the same tight cotton shirt from before. Alfred followed, hesitating only slightly.

They sprinted to Alfred's house and scared the living hell out of Arthur, his cousin, before bolting to the lake. A few years back Mathias, Gilbert, and Alfred had found a hidden alcove with a small cliff to jump off of (into deep water, it was completely safe and also not the cliff that Mathias had broken a bone on) and trees to attach ropes to. Ropes and swings.

They had to slow down to cross a street, and once they had crossed it, Gilbert yelled, "Race you to the hideout!"

Alfred won. He was a former track prodigy, and was the best sprinter in the county (maybe even country). Of course, that was when they lived in Italy for a few years, when before that they had been in America… and Canada…

"Damn…" Gilbert panted, leaning on his knees. Alfred had his shoulder leaning on a tree and was breathing heavily, staring at the canopy. "Damn, Alfred… you're… fast…"

A smile brushed by his lips but he said nothing, eyes still pointed at the sky. He risked a glance at Gilbert and instantly loved and regretted it. Gilbert's face was red with exertion and he was heaving deep breaths of air, his chest moving with each inhale and exhale. He had taken his shirt off at some point and his pale skin gleamed in the speckled light through the leaves of the trees.

Alfred forced his gaze to the sky again, blinking to try to get the image of Gilbert out of his mind. _Shit, shit…_

"Woo… wow, I did not know you were that fast! Awesome!" Gilbert laughed, straightening. Alfred snickered with him and made a few snide comments while taking his shirt off, to which Gilbert responded accordingly.

"Jumping off that cliff's gonna be cold as fuck," Alfred said, a mix of hesitation, annoyance, and regret in his voice.

"Bet," Gilbert said challengingly.

Alfred glared at him. "Fuck you."

"Are you taking it, or not?" Gilbert raised his eyebrows, obviously mocking him.

"I never said I wasn't," Alfred muttered in annoyance. He eyed the cliff, noting Gilbert making chicken noises behind him. He shot Gilbert one last glare before running to the cliff, building up his momentum and leaping. He flipped Gilbert the bird midair, and he heard the albino's cackle before he was engulfed in water.

Instantly his muscles froze up and he could barely even think. The only thing his brain could do was scream _cold! Cold! Holy shit! This is not normal! Shit!_ The shock was too much for his system to handle, and his movement shut down, causing him to start to sink.

The need to breathe started pushing past the freezing feeling he had and he pushed to the surface frantically, the frigid water not making it any easier to swim. His fingers breached the surface and his head followed shortly after. He heaved air into his lungs, his eyes bright and clear.

"Shit! Alfred!" Gilbert was at the edge of the water, at the base of the cliff. His eyes were wide. "Dude!"

Alfred tried to say something but choked on water. He instead focused his effort on swimming over to the edge, where Gilbert stood. Upon reaching it, he flopped onto the rock with Gilbert's help and took deep breaths. Gilbert's hands were flitting around him and he was letting out a high pitch humming noise, which betrayed his genuine nervousness and worry.

"Holy shit that's cold," Alfred said quickly, turning to his back and facing upwards. He had a shit-eating grin on his face and Gilbert kicked him.

"I thought you died!" he said, a hint of hysteria in his voice. The german took a deep breath to calm himself, then settled a glare on Alfred. "What the hell, man? Not awesome, okay?"

A bubble of laughter started in his chest and spilled out of his lips, and Alfred started laughing so hard his stomach hurt. Gilbert looked at him with concern and Alfred's giggles slowly started dissipating.

"Gil…" Alfred said, a few giggles still escaping him. "I felt like I almost died."

"And you're laughing about that?" Gilbert exclaimed, his former hysteria coming back.

"No, no!" Alfred sat up and waved his hands, shivering slightly. "It's just… this whole situation…" he tried to make a point with obscure hand gestures. "It's crazy."

"Yeah, well, I'm not jumping off that cliff," Gilbert said, narrowing his eyes at the offending piece of rock.

"You're getting in the water, though," Alfred said, dipping his toe in again. It seemed warmer than before and he started sliding back in when Gilbert grabbed his arm.

"You literally almost drowned and you're going back in?"

The incredulous tone of his voice made Alfred snicker. "I didn't almost drown, ya drama queen. I'm fine. Get in, the water's fine!" He slid all the way back in and shivered. While it seemed warmer, he still felt the cold seeping into his bones.

Gilbert tapped the water with his foot and withdrawed it swiftly. "Shit, no! That water's cold as ice!"

"This was _your_ idea, shithead," Alfred reminded him. He tried treading water and, when he didn't want to die instantly (though it was pretty close), pushed further away from the edge. Gilbert tested the water again and scowled at it.

"C'mon, coward, just get in the water!" Alfred taunted. Gilbert glared at him and he smiled cheekily.

"Ohhh shit. Jesus Christ save me now," Gilbert bemoaned as he sat down and stuck his legs in. He hesitated on getting the rest of his body submerged, so Alfred slide over and grabbed his arm, pulling him in.

Gilbert let out a pterodactyl screech and flailed his arms. He smacked Alfred in the face with his askew arms, but it barely hurt, and Alfred felt proud and successful when he finished dragging Gilbert into the water.

His best friend's head popped back up and he gasped. His eyes were wide with the shock of the water and he floundered for a few seconds before finding his footing on the edge.

"You fucker!" he exclaimed, gasping. Gilbert tried to pull himself out of the water, but Alfred wrapped his arms around the lanky german's middle and pulled him back in.

He laughed loudly as Gilbert thrashed and cursed his name to the winds. His laughter was cut off when Gilbert shoved his face underwater, and they scuffled as best they could while swimming. Their hands were sliding against skin and it was difficult to get purchase, but they managed to dunk each other a good amount of times before they were both too tired to continue.

"I'm done," Alfred chattered, making his way to the edge slowly.

"Your lips are blue," Gilbert said humorously. "Looks like you can't handle the cold, loser."

Alfred looked back at him and said, "Your lips are blue too, moron."

"Aw damnit, really?" Gilbert touched his lips with his frozen fingers. "Shit."

The two of them climbed out of the water and sat on the rocks shivering. They pulled their shirts on but mournfully realized that they had neglected to bring towels.

"It's col-l-ld," Alfred muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. "We sh-should get ba-a-ack."

"I think I'm warming up okay…" Gilbert murmured, rubbing at his arms. Alfred shot him a glance. "It's my awesome prussian blood," he joked.

Alfred snorted. "I was b-born in Fl… Florida."

"Ha!" Gilbert laughed loudly and jeered, "Weeeeaaak."

"Shut up!" Alfred muttered, rubbing faster at his arms. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Alfred felt Gilbert's scrutinizing gaze on him.

"We should hang at my place. Have you seen I am Legend before?" he said suddenly. "It's got that one famous black dude in it."

Alfred sniffed. "No. Morgan Freeman?"

"No, he's younger… uh, Will-"

"Will Smith?" Alfred interrupted.

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded absentmindedly. "You'll like it. It's an american film, got the whole zombie thing going and everything."

"It's a zombie movie? Those are so generic," Alfred said. He hated how whiny his voice sounded, but he was cold and wet and frankly felt like he had a right to complain.

"Well, sort-of. It's different than just 'zombies', uh… you'll just have to wait and see." Gilbert started tugging him along. "C'mon, I'm not dragging you there."

Alfred made a dramatic noise in the back of his throat and followed him stiffly, feeling like cold molasses. It was slow going, much slower than when they came, and they were both getting annoyed with how unreactive their limbs were.

"Oh my god we're here," Gilbert sighed in a ' _finally'_ tone. They stumbled through the threshold and collapsed into a pile on the doormat, both groaning. Ludwig looked up from his place on the couch, one eyebrow raised. He wordlessly stood with his laptop and disappeared up the stairway.

The two untangled themselves to move from the floor to the couch. Gilbert slouched into the cushions and Alfred slumped right next to him. He told himself that it was for body warmth.

They were pressed right up against each other.

"Jesus, you're cold," Gilbert murmured. After a moment he wrapped his arms around Alfred and pulled the american closer. "Gotta warm you up."

Alfred sputtered and felt himself turning red. "I-!" Gilbert cocked his head.

"Y'know…" he started, leaning in closer to Alfred, a playful smile on his face. "Your lips are still blue."

"They are?" Alfred asked, puzzled. He reached up and touched his lips, and they weren't ice, by any means.

"Yeah," Gilbert got closer to his face and Alfred froze like a deer in headlights. His gaze flickered from Gilbert's eyes to his lips and back again. "I'd better… warm them up…" he breathed, the warm puff of air brushing Alfred's cheeks.

Alfred's mind started running a mile a minute, trying to figure out the situation, when he felt a pair of lips press against his own. They were soft, like velvet, and comfortingly warm.

His brain short-circuited and he sat rigid, unmoving.

 _Holy shit, Gilbert's kissing me!_

Eventually Gilbert pulled away, obviously disappointed or upset that Alfred hadn't moved. A flash of regret swept through the albino's face and he leaned back.

"Uh… I guess I read that wrong…" Gilbert muttered, averting his gaze. "Damn… sorry, I gue-"

Before he could finish his sentence Alfred jumped forward, grasped Gilbert's face between his hands, and smushed his lips against Gilbert's. Less than a second later Gilbert reciprocated. Their mouths moved against one another in synchrony, and Alfred's hands tangled into Gilbert's hair. Gilbert was pushing them closer together by Alfred's shoulders, as close as they could get.

Alfred almost forgot about a certain thing called breathing, and when they broke apart they were both panting. Alfred leaned forwards and pressed his forehead against Gilbert's, staring into his red eyes.

Gilbert's face shifted into a smirk. "Do you feel warmer now?"

"Yeah," Alfred laughed softly, then moved to burrow his face in the crook of Gilbert's shoulder, like he had dreamed of doing for quite some time. "But I'll be even warmer if you cuddle with me during the movie."

"I dream of doing nothing else," Gilbert said, reaching over Alfred's shoulder to grab the remote. Then his eyes sparkled mischievously and he said, "Well, I do dream of something else, but that's for a later date."

Alfred let out a puff of amused laughter and tried to cuddle further into Gilbert's embrace. "Pervert."

"Pervert?" Gilbert snickered. "Do you want to see how much of a pervert I can-"

"Shut up," Alfred said, laughter in his words. He moved his hand to cover Gilbert's mouth. "Turn the tv on and cuddle with me."

Gilbert kissed Alfred's hand and did as he was told, smiling as his unusually romantic action caused Alfred's face to turn pink. In a spur of the moment decision he leaned forwards and placed another kiss on Alfred's cheek, causing him to flush darker. "As you wish."

* * *

 **that last line is 100% a ref to Princess Bride, js.**

 **also, I will write something for Germany / Belarus (gerbel? belger?). can't promise when, but it'll happen.**

 **thanks for reading and review if you liked it ! /hearts/**


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